


SAUDADE

by tropikailiesm



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Based on a Dream, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Metaphors, Mutual Pining, don't mind the loose plot or the continuity issues, i just needed to expel this dream away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 21:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11860407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tropikailiesm/pseuds/tropikailiesm
Summary: Saudade. (subst. fem.)Portuguese substantive that claims no direct translation in English; It describes a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for something or someone who is absent.Saudade was once described as the “love that remains after someone’s gone”. A stronger form of saudade may be felt towards people or things whose whereabouts are unknown, such old ways, old lovers, a faraway place where one was raised, and feelings one used to have and faded away, the golden memories of the youth. It brings sad and happy feelings and memories altogether. Happiness for having experienced it. Sadness for missing it.In Portuguese, when you say, “sinto saudades de você” (I feel saudade of you), mostly means “I miss you”, but carries a much stronger tone. Generally, saudade carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return.Note: The closest word to saudade must be the Korean  keurium (그리움), that reflects a yearning for anything that left a strong impression in the heart – a memory, a place, a person.





	SAUDADE

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to 'By My Side' by Zitten  
> m.youtube.com/watch?v=PJWujaNGlQg
> 
> (crossposted on AFF)

Your father was waiting anxiously for Jongin.

 

You didn’t understand clearly why, but apparently, your best friend’s father was delivering some kind of “order” through him to your father. A weird paternal exchange. And your father was almost late for work, but he had to wait for whatever it was.  Where your he was hurried, you was panicky.

 

How long you were gone? Weeks? Months? You didn’t count.  At some point the emptiness felt so huge that counting days didn’t matter anymore.

 

You was gone for your own will. Given all the shit your life was into (call it overworking, college, financial problems and dysfunctional family), you only needed one more string to be completely broken, and that meant a stupid fight with Jongin. You needed to be away.

 

You missed Jongin, though. More than anything and everything, you missed his smile, his sweet laugh, his cracked jokes, his silly manners. You missed the connection you had. The connection that you broke with your own hands. Without him life was tasteless. But even missing him like a part of you wasn’t there, you didn’t had the nerve to look after him. What if you’ve lost Jongin for good? You couldn’t face him, not running the risk of being rejected. And now he was heading to your house, in any minute he was getting on the door.

 

Ding-dong.

 

Before your father moved to open the door or you had time to think twice, you jumped off the sofa, and rushed to the hall like an instinct.

 

You saw him when you opened the door hastily. He was beyond the garden, fumbling with the plastic bag, as making sure that the package was safe. He was exactly like in your memories, under the gray light of the morning: flush faced, hair like black satin, sandals on his feet, poor stance. The drizzle left some wet patterns on his shoulder. He looked nervous, running his fingers in his dewy hair, biting his lips.

 

Then he lifts his eyes.

 

To say that his smile shone with the light of a thousand stars when he saw you standing at the door was cliché and kinda gross. But the flash of his white teeth and the honest curve of his eyes were the brightest thing you saw in months, something cold within your splintering, permanently ruined. The immensity of meaning behind that smile was able to split some kind of darkness that you didn’t know you secured inside. You flew to him fighting back the tears, hurried as he could turn into fog if you didn’t catch him fast enough.

 

 

Before you was gone, you were close friends, and clicked together pretty well, but both were too shy to bold skinship. Both too cautious, too fearful. However, the long time they spent apart spoke louder than the inhibition. You have lost too much time already.  You HAD to hug the daylight out of him. Fuckity fuck, you missed him.

 

You saw in slow motion Jongin letting the plastic bag fall on the ground, and opening his arms to you. Seizing his neck was the most natural thing you ever did around him, and like you were an well-tuned song, he squeezed your waist at the same time.  

 

Fucking fuckity fuck, you missed him.

 

Everything about him was gentle and tepid. You was tiptoeing to reach him and not weigh him down. His chin rested on your shoulder, his lean fingers sincerely soothed your back.  He was slender and angular, but therere were something very welcoming in his arms. Comfy like home, you thought. Familiar like your old mattress with that hole in the middle with the exact frame of your body.  It never felt so right being inside someone’s arms. You counted the seconds they spent in each other arms by the fluttering beat of his heart – it was like a bird trapped between them, its pulsing wings pinching your skin – till you lost track of time. You couldn’t believe in your luck. He was there. Gosh, he was there, and you was so stupid for leaving.

 

Afraid seeming too needy, you backed first. You wanted to stay there all day, but geez, you was almost clutching on him like a sloth. Only being able to hug him again was a blessing.

 

“I missed you.”  You heard the smile on his words, as he searched for your averting eyes.

 

There were that small desire gnawing at your insides, but you hadn’t the guts not even to look back, let alone take a step further… so you only kept your hands on his shoulders, and breathing in some courage on the heavy morning hair, you looked inside his eyes. Your heart goes to a jolt, because you saw the same glint reflected on him too.

 

So he bear-hugged you home again without hesitation. This time he wrapped his arms completely around you, encasing your tiny structure inside his, like he was a cloak and you was a baby, like he was hiding your, preventing your from flee away again.  It was like laying on a balmy marshmallow. Like snuggle on a bunch of welcoming cushions, like being 100% enveloped by its warmth by all sides without being suffocated. You wanted more, feel him more, so you dug your nails in the collar of his pink t-shirt.

 

He pulled your closer, and closer and closer until he was leaning on your. His lips and nose brushed your temple and buried in your hair, breathing in. Your fingers found his nape and you couldn’t resist the urge of grazing your nails in the root of his hair, and he hoarsely breathed out in surprise, his parted lips burning a scorching path on your ear and you shuddered. Moved by a desire reflex, he closed his puffy lips on your lobe.

 

Friggin’ Casanova.

 

The next thing you knew, you were kissing. He tasted addictive as an sour-sweet  fruit drop, mandarine, meringue, light, dark and tropical. It surprised you.  He sucked repeatedly times on your lower lip as he was slowly savoring something syrupy and released it with an embarrassing loud pop.

 

“I missed you…” He said and caught your lip again, gliding his tongue across it, thirsty. “I missed you, I missed you….”

 

You could listen to his chanting forever, so you freed his mouth and sucked on his jaw, right above the beautiful laugh wrinkle that he had on the left side (the ghost of his trademark lopsided grin). When he smiled, you felt that mark deepening under your lips, and your legs weakened.

 

“I missed you, I missed you…” You pecked the length of his neck, feeling his throat vibrating, and sucked the sweet spot between his jaw and his neck, and he groaned. “Oh my god, I really missed you”

 

He gently tugged a handful of your fluffy hair, yanking your head and wreaked havoc on your mouth, nibbling, sucking and turning you into a puddle of yearn beneath him.

 

Your feet stumbled on something, and reality kick in. The plastic bag. The cars passing in the street. Your father was waiting for him and holy fuck, you were making out in your front door, some girls were watching, and pointing across the street, you was fucked, fucked, fucked.  

 

You push his chest a little, and he made a wet sound when discharged your lips. “

 

Jongin-ah… Father…”

 

“What…?”

 

 His eyes were still closed, breath cracking and hands on each side of your face. His eyelashes tickled your cheekbones when he finally opened it, iris pitch black and rested his forehead on yours.

 

“My father is waiting inside…”

 

Jongin closed his eyes again and licked nervously his lips.

 

“Shit.  It’s true.”

 

Before releasing you, he pecked your lips again, and you guided him into your house, feeling self-conscious like you was butt naked in public. Your father was waiting on the kitchen, far enough to be oblivious to the rampant events on the front door. He took the plastic bag from Jongin’s hand, greeted you both and was gone as fast as lightening. Jongin were guided by your hand to the sofa in the living room. You seated by his side, feeling awkward and bashful as hell. What you had to say after that greeting? How are you? Do you want to skip the weird bits and kill this saudade with a make out session?

 

“So, what’s the big deal about that plastic bag?”

 

“I don’t give a fuck. I just used it as an opportunity to see you.”

 

 Jongin, this blunt bitch. He gripped your elbow, closing the gap between your bodies and kissed you.

 

He was the sun, and you felt like water; fluid, a formless bunch of sensations being molded by his wandering hands, being absorbed by him and evaporating by his alarming heat.  Every piece of your flesh that made contact with his fizzed with his warmth and came to life, like the random lines he drew on the exposed skin of your ribs and legs, the kisses he showered on the cheeks, your neck, and your collarbone.

 

When you took in you was laying on top of him on the couch, settled between his legs, shaking and moaning. You grinded your hips unconsciously while he sucked your tongue, until he hissed by the friction and his hands held you.

 

“Don’t do that” he said with a laugh in his voice that pleaded the exact opposite.

 

“Do what?” You undulated your hips purposefully, and smiled on the sensitive skin of the hollow of his neck, sucking and biting until dark red blotches blossomed out. He whimpered and griped your harder, helping your to pick a stronger pace.

 

“Jesus…” You were a heated mess.

 

What the fuck you were doing? Your first kiss was just 25 minutes ago, and look at you two, grinding and moaning.  Where is the well-known bash between you guys?

 

Fuck shyness. Fuck fear. Fuck reserves. Fuck everything. Fuck him.

 

You missed him so much that having him close like this, under your, finally touching you the way you always wanted almost made your cry.

 

You claimed his lips again and nudged your tongue inside his mouth and your hands inside his shirt as his was inside of yours. He was so, so skinny that his ribs were perceptible under your fingers. You felt his heartbeat right under his skin pounding like a stone crusher threatening to gash a hole in his chest.  You felt something snapping in your back, and realization comes in a new surge of desire. Your bra. He opened it.

 

“Do you want this?” he asked, hoarse voice, hard breath, strong hands making your feel alive again.

 

You nodded in his lips, eyes closed.

 

“Say it”.

 

“I want it.” Every syllable made your lips brush together.

 

“So promise me… Promise me you’ll never vanish like that again. Promise you’ll never walk away again. Please.”

 

You thought about feeling cold. About the emptiness. About the uneasy feeling of non-belonging. About being lost.

 

“I’ll not walk away anymore. I promise.”

 

“Welcome back. I missed you like hell.”

**Author's Note:**

> As I said in the tags, this whole mess was an old dream.  
> My subconscious is pining Jongin so much, damn.


End file.
